Thankfully, not in Baywood. They appeared to have a solid balance sheet and had maintained a reputation for excellence. And when Traci had taken her ACT, albeit for the second time, her score had shown that. She could go most anywhere her little heart desired. And he was determined to figure out a way to pay for it. But the last time he’d talked to her about it, she’d been indecisive. Maybe UW in Madison. Maybe Marquette in Milwaukee. Maybe University of San Diego. He’d shaken his head at that. He wanted her to spread her wings but she needed to do that in the Midwest. And since he’d be writing a big check, his vote counted.

“Don’t screw around too long,” he’d warned her.

Were the Whitmans ever going to get to have the same conversation with Emma? Were they going to get to see her roll her eyes and toss her hair but then be the lucky recipients of a kiss on the cheek before she flounced out of the room?

He pushed his half-eaten sandwich to the side, no longer hungry.

Or was the sunlight going to be ripped out of their lives forever?

Seven

He parked in a visitor spot to the left of the front door of the Dover Police Department. Once inside, it was just minutes before he and Rena were settled in a small room with a table and four chairs. Sometimes they split a file to get through it more quickly. This time, they sat side by side, looking at each piece of information together. Before they could flip the first page, A.L.’s cell phone pinged. He looked at the text, then at Rena.

“Doug Franklin got ahold of the Antlers. They can see us at four at their house.” A.L. checked his watch. “We’ve got two hours to get through this.”

“Do we have an address?” Rena asked.

“Yep,” A.L. said, flipping the first page. For the next ninety-plus minutes, they relived the journey taken by Doug Franklin and others. It was sobering. Could easily see the increasing frustration by officers as the days wore on. Case notes were shorter, almost terse.

Cops were human. They got pissed off, too. Couldn’t show it but sometimes it bled through on the pages.

“I’m getting the impression that Doug Franklin really didn’t like Rosemary Bracken,” Rena said thoughtfully. “Can’t say that I blame him.”

“He’s got a missing kid and she can’t even be bothered to answer the door when he knows that she’s inside the damn house. He’s more restrained than me,” A.L. admitted.

“You’d have broken down the damn door.”

“Maybe,” A.L. admitted. “Multiple discussions with Trapper Frogg. He seems like a bit of an ass.”